Chapter Twenty-Two

T he following evening, Tallulah sat on Chloe’s couch, staring through gritty eyes at her friend over the mug of her hot chocolate, her chest churned up and raw. Last night, she’d arrived on Chloe’s doorstep with nothing but her purse, but she’d been too overwrought to explain what happened. Sweet as ever, Chloe had simply led Tallulah to the still unoccupied guest bedroom and urged her into bed, saying they would talk in the morning. Only, Tallulah must have blacked out from pure abject misery, because she didn’t wake up until the afternoon, when Chloe was already at harp practice.

This was her first chance to speak to anyone about what happened. She hadn’t even spoken to Burgess, although he’d called several times. Tallulah desperately wanted to know if Lissa was all right. She was also very afraid to find out she wasn’t. The numerous calls were yet to be returned, but she would get to that. Maybe. Probably.

As soon as she fully absorbed what happened.

And what was happening. Continuously.

“I think I might be in love with Burgess,” she stage-whispered into the quiet.

Chloe nearly spat out her hot chocolate. As soon as the shock wore off, a giant smile bloomed across her face. “Oh, my goodness. Really?”

“Don’t look so happy about it.”

“I can’t help it. I’m a terrible romantic.” Her grin dimmed in degrees. “Are you telling me this is a bad thing?”

“Let me start at the beginning.” Briefly, she explained to Chloe how Lissa had been hopeful for a reconciliation between her parents and brought it up several times since the beginning of her employment. “Last night, we were in the car coming home from...” She expelled a breath. “Honestly, it was the best night of my life. He rented out the aquarium, Chloe. The whole thing . There was some, um... interesting foreplay in the works. We were kissing on the sidewalk, like really going for it, and... there they were. Lissa and her mother. There’d been an emergency and they’d been waiting for us to come back, so Lissa could stay while Ashleigh and her fiancé dealt with it. Lissa just freaked out. Worse than I was expecting she might. I couldn’t stay in the apartment with them.”

Chloe’s mouth dropped wider as the story went on. “Holy shit biscuits.”

“You can say that again.”

“Holy shit biscuits.”

Tallulah’s snort turned into a groan, her head falling backward onto the arm of the couch. “The worst part is, I had told Lissa there was nothing going on between me and Burgess. When she asked me, I was still trying to convince myself there wasn’t. Now she feels like I lied to her, which I kind of did... but only because I was lying to myself.”

“You know what? It’s all going to work out.” Chloe squeezed her knee beneath the fleece blanket that was currently draped over them both. “Everything is life or death to kids that age. I was the queen of drama queens. Still am, sometimes,” she said, taking a thoughtful sip of her cocoa. “I remember when my mother divorced my father and we had to move—again—and leave all my friends behind— again —I ran away the first day in our new house. I lived in a tree for six hours. My mother had to call the police and everything.”

Tallulah’s mug paused halfway to her mouth. “Wow. Did they find you or did you just eventually go home?”

“I went home.” She shrugged. “I’m scared of the dark.”

“Really. Do you sleep with a nightlight?”

“No. I leave the TV on the Home Shopping Network.”

“A criminally underrated channel,” Tallulah said, briefly raising her mug.

“It is .” Chloe glanced toward the coffee table where their phones sat, side by side, each of them lighting up periodically. “I think we should call Sig. He’ll know how to fix this.”

Tallulah jolted upright. “What? How?”

“Sig fixes everything,” Chloe said simply.

“What does he know about a twelve-year-old’s psyche?”

“Probably not a lot, but I’ve gone running to him with far weirder problems.”

“Such as?”

“Well.” Chloe pursed her lips, thinking for a few beats. “I didn’t know how to clean when he rented me this apartment. I’d never cleaned anything before, so he gave me cleaning lessons. He even created a homemade formula for hard water stains. He’s a genius .”

“Hold on, I’m trying to picture this professional hockey player giving cleaning lessons.”

“I picture it a lot.” Twin red stains bloomed on her cheeks. “Because it’s funny, I mean.”

“Uh-huh.” Tallulah watched Chloe’s reaction closely. “When did you say your mother was marrying his father?”

“I don’t know. Next year sometime.” The words came out in a rush and sitting forward, she quickly set down her mug on the coffee table. “But back to the problem at hand... don’t you think you should give Burgess a call? He’s probably worried.”

“He knows I’m here.”

“I mean, he’s probably worried you’re going to end things.”

“I don’t know if I have any other choice. I don’t want to be the person who Lissa believes is preventing her parents from remarrying. The things she said to me...” A pang struck Tallulah in the chest. “How do we come back from that?”

“Maybe... you don’t. Maybe you go somewhere different.” Chloe pointed at her own mouth, looking very pleased with herself. “That was pretty good.”

“It was. Foot high five?”

They tapped feet beneath the blanket.

Mostly in the interest of distracting herself, Tallulah was just preparing to launch into a speech in defense of the Home Shopping Network when someone knocked on the door.

“Chlo?” came a deep male voice from the other side. “You home?”

Chloe’s mouth formed an O. “That’s Sig,” she whispered.

“ What? ” Tallulah whispered back. “Did you know he was coming?”

“No!” Her eyes widened. “But he has a key.”

Both women tensed, their heads turning slowly at the sound of a key turning in the lock of the door. Simultaneously, they got the idea to hide underneath the blanket, both of them yanking it over their heads, just as the apartment door creaked open...

And not one, but two sets of footsteps thudded in.

Oh lord. Tallulah knew those footfalls anywhere. Burgess.

He’d gotten sick of calling and now he was there.

Why hadn’t she expected this?

And why were her toes curling up in anticipation?

Sig chuckled. Sighed. “Do you think the blanket makes you invisible, Chlo? ”

“Maybe.”

“It doesn’t.”

The blanket was torn away, revealing two very large, very annoyed hockey players.

Tallulah’s gaze swung to Burgess, absorbing him like a houseplant that hadn’t been watered in a week. Had it really been less than twenty-four hours since the last time she’d seen him? How had he managed to look so terrible in such a short space of time? Black circles hugged the bottom rims of his eyes, his worry and exhaustion evident in a way that made her want to lie down beside him and kiss him better. Guilt over not answering his calls drilled her in the stomach like a line drive from Pedro Martinez.

And the fact that she was casually making sports references made her want to cry even harder.

“Can we talk?” Burgess asked Tallulah, hoarsely.

“I don’t know what to say,” she croaked. “I’m sorry.”

“Jesus.” His brows drew together. “I’m the one who needs to apologize, Tallulah. Not you.”

Tallulah’s chest hollowed itself out, making her ache to bound off the couch and throw herself into his arms where she knew, without a doubt, she’d feel a thousand percent better.

Burgess’s chest rose and fell heavily, as if he knew what she was thinking.

And wanted—needed—the same thing.

Sig reached down and snagged Chloe’s wrist, hauling her off the couch. “Come on, let’s go sit in my car while they work this out.”

“No, Sig,” Chloe said, reaching a hand toward Tallulah. “I can’t abandon my friend!”

Tallulah shook herself out of her Burgess trance. “Yeah! You guys can’t just walk in here and ambush us like this.”

Chloe pointed at the mugs of cocoa. “Look! We’re doing emotional recon. ”

“Do it later,” Sig and Burgess said at the same time.

“Wow.” This from Tallulah.

“ Wow ,” Chloe echoed. “Don’t get any toxic masculinity in my hot chocolate.”

Sig tapped her nose. “I have a five-hundred-dollar Sephora gift card waiting in the car and a banana acai bowl for you to eat on the drive over.”

Chloe turned on a heel and started walking. “Good luck, Tallulah.”

Tallulah watched in shocked fascination as Sig ushered his future stepsister out of the apartment, the door closing neatly behind them, but not before Sig could shoot them a smirk. “Sold out for acai,” she muttered. “I guess it really is a superfruit.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when Burgess took a seat beside her on the couch, wasting no time before pulling her into his arms. Tallulah went so fast, she even surprised herself, climbing right onto him like a clinging monkey, legs circling his waist, her head lodging into the notch of his neck, his strong arms wrapped around her like a physical promise. “I’m sorry, Tallulah. I’m so fucking sorry for what was said to you.” He kissed the crown of her head, her temple. “You didn’t deserve that. I’ve been sick to my stomach.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls. I think... I’m embarrassed, maybe.”

“No. Don’t be. Please. ”

“How is Lissa?”

She lifted her head in time to see a shadow pass through his eyes. “She’ll understand eventually. But... it might take some time.”

Those two sentences landed like blows to her solar plexus. “She’s... still really upset?”

Several seconds passed, each one heavier than the next. “Yeah. I’m not going to lie to you. She is.” His tone was grave. “It’s my fault for not talking to her sooner.”

“It’s okay. It’s a hard conversation.”

“One that could have saved your feelings, Tallulah. One I could have had months ago and you’d still be home with me where you belong.” He spoke through his teeth, stroking her hair and fisting it, pulling until he could look down at her upturned face. “I know this, us, is new. But I’m asking you to ride this out with me. Come home and do this. She’ll accept it with time.”

Oh my God.

Burgess was asking for something monumental. Not only to be in a relationship with him, which was enough of a leap for her, in itself. But to essentially... co-parent. Be the equivalent of a stepmom to a kid who actively resented her. That was a massive jump from being his fun, new girlfriend. Was it only a matter of days ago they were still pretending she was in his room to give him a sports massage?

“Burgess.”

“I know,” he said gruffly, against her lips.

“That’s a lot. That’s scary.”

“I know.” With the use of her gathered hair, he pulled her head back even more, raking his mouth up the slope of her throat. “God, I miss the way you smell and taste and fucking feel.” Looking into her eyes, he shifted his hips forward so she could feel the growing thickness between his thighs and she openly sobbed. “I’ve been going out of my mind.”

Tallulah slid her knees open wider on the couch and rocked forward, shuddering over the friction of panties on denim. “It’s only been one day.”

“One day in hell feels a lot worse after spending weeks in heaven, Tallulah.”

“I’m heaven?”

“My heaven, yeah.”

The scary unknown might have been a third party in the room, but the need to touch him, revel in his huge, reassuring presence, overruled everything in that moment. “One kiss and we’ll talk this out,” she said, mesmerized by the sculpted shape of his lips. The mint he breathed from his mouth onto hers, the calloused hands that moved so possessively up her thighs and around to her butt, sliding into her panties and gripping her cheeks like he owned them. Because he did.

“Yeah,” he said, his breath beginning to labor against her mouth. “One kiss. Let’s go.”

“I mean, maybe we shouldn’t. What if it turns into more? This is Chloe’s couch .”

“I’ll fuck your mouth anywhere I want. You’re mine.”

“Whoa, yeah, okay.”

Their lips joined hungrily, but so seamlessly, the soft clash felt like rough poetry, and a sense of rightness spouted in the center of her chest and spilled in every direction. Down her thighs, to her fingertips, up behind her eyes like hot pressure. They wolfed each other down—she believed that was the technical description—her body melting into the strength of him, writhing on top of his hardness in pure mimicry of her mouth, which couldn’t get enough of his taste, who he was, the fact that he was there, the bridge that had been built between their chests from nothing into something sturdy that couldn’t be walked across.

Could it be walked across?

There was no thinking about it now, because she was having her neck sucked, her backside molded like clay, moist heat beginning to dampen her underwear in that place they connected, soft rubbing on top of hard. They separated less than a millimeter to ply themselves with oxygen and didn’t bother consulting each other if another kiss was in order, it simply was, but the act of throwing their one-kiss plan out the window stole the rest of their inhibitions, and Tallulah’s hands were suddenly moving on their own, raking down the rough, mountainous terrain of his chest, lower to the fly of his jeans, twisting the button open and opening his zipper as much as she could in their positions.

Burgess broke the kiss, looked down, panting. “What are you doing?”

“I have to touch you,” she said on a rushing exhale.

Briefly, he tipped his head back, making a low sound in his throat. “Tallulah, we were going to fuck as soon as we made it inside the apartment last night. I’m warning you that I’m in a bad, bad way.”

“I’ll take care of you,” she whispered, nipping at his jaw while making more headway with his zipper, lowering it until she could finally slip her hand inside and find the source of his hunger, wrapping her fist around it and stroking, kissing into his guttural groan, their mouths moving in a messy tangle, his flesh swelling and pulsing in her palm. “Better?”

“No.”

“What do you want?”

“You know goddamn well what I want.”

“Here?”

She couldn’t even remember where here was anymore, really. Not with his urgency filling her fist, their connection on the verge of exploding, the debris falling into a new, more permanent and meaningful landscape, their bodies nearly frenzied with the need to pick up where they’d left off last night, when it seemed like they would die unless they had dirty, messy sex.

No, she was going to die if that didn’t happen.

Her inner thighs were ticklish things, her core pulsating so insistently that she was beginning to ache without something to fill it, her breath beginning to hiccup in and out, hand moving faster, faster until Burgess’s head fell back, his teeth gritted, his agony clear. Agony she could put an end to, while eliminating her own in the process.

Deal with the fallout later. There was no stopping this.

Their scorching eye contact causing her heart to pitch and race, Tallulah rose up on her knees over his lap and used his stiffness to push aside her panties, gasping at the drag of smooth steel through her wetness, the drag of his head over and around her clit.

“Don’t fuck with me, girl,” Burgess panted, landing a sharp slap to her ass.

And her atmosphere turned wildly colorful, enjoyable stings racing up and down her arms, back, through her tummy. That slap caused her to react in a way she never could have predicted, drop-kicking her need into the next galaxy, making her feel like a scolded brat, and she would have expected to hate that, but oh no, no, her body was of an opposite mind, her sex contracting like a flower blooming in reverse, her hand shaking with the desperation to guide Burgess inside, to put him there—and she did, she did, absorbing that thick helmet of flesh into her body and wiggling her hips in an attempt to take the rest.

“Tallulah.”

“Yes?” she whimpered.

“I want to get it in, too, but we need to slow down.”

“No.”

His laughter was pained as he brought his hand around, strumming a quartet of knuckles over the front of her panties, making her mewl. “We’ve got some work to do before I get it in here. I’ve fingered you, remember, gorgeous?” He issued a grunt. “You’re tight as a motherfucker.”

Heat cascaded down her sensitive skin in waves, the vibrating hum between her legs turning almost monstrous. “I can’t believe I like being spanked and told that I’m tight. Like, I can’t believe it—”

Burgess stood up in one lightning movement, easily keeping her legs wrapped around his waist and striding toward the rear hallway where the bedrooms were located. “Burgess, your back—”

“My back hurts when I collide with musclebound athletes.” He kicked open the door to the guest room and looked around, as if to determine if they were in the right place. Something on the bed must have confirmed it was, indeed, the right place, before he slammed the door shut with a bump of his hip and continued toward the bed. “My back can more than handle a pretty little thing like you.”

The gruff delivery of that sentiment made her feel pliant, hot. For lack of a better term, fuckable. Sexy. “I can’t believe I like being called a pretty little thing.”

“If it makes you feel better, I got a semi that time you called me Mean Daddy. Now, get your damn clothes off.” Burgess dropped her onto the bed and stripped the T-shirt over his head, messing up his hair in the process, the enticing power of shirtless Burgess making her hands tremble while she pushed down her panties, arching her back in order to remove the night shirt she wore. And then she was lying, completely naked, on the bed in front of him. In front of this rough-hewn hockey god whose erection was all but tumbling out through the open V of his jeans, his forearms a series of muscles and veins, chest heaving up and down, eyes glittering with an almost dangerous amount of lust.

Wow. Wow. Wow.

“Is that your way of telling me you want to be called Daddy?” she whispered, letting her knees inch apart so he could see how wet he’d already made her.

“Don’t you dare.”

“I might dare,” she whispered.

Shaking his head, despite the affection turning his eyes a mesmerizing shade of blue, Burgess dropped his jeans completely and planted a knee on the bed, his beard tickling her inner thighs as he went down, down, down on her...

Looking her in the eye, he spit on her slit and licked it up. “Mine.”

She almost blacked out. But she didn’t want to because he kept going, his mouth a vessel for magic and it was so good. So perfect. He lubricated her clit in one animalistic drag of his tongue, before absolutely positively going to town on the most sensitive, vulnerable, neglected place on her body, his hungry laps of her flesh accompanied by low rumbles from his chest.

“ Fuck ,” he growled, meeting Tallulah’s eyes from his face-down position, his gaze glassy, jaw tight. “Thighs open, pussy drenched. That’s how I know it’s mine. Now I need to come home to you every night, get you hot, and make you grateful you date a big motherfucker.” He delved his tongue downward between her folds and teased her bundle of nerves with the very tip. “Make me grateful I found my beautiful girl who knows how to take it.”

“I’m ready,” she sobbed, brain in the spin cycle. On some level, she’d known Burgess would be like an alpha conqueror in bed, but she’d never expected to respond like a shaking, impatient peasant, her body thrilling to the pure domination of him. But here she was, opening her thighs like a big box store on the morning of Black Friday, her nails scoring his scalp, his massive shoulders, her own hips, anything she could reach. “I’m ready, I’m ready!” she screamed through her teeth, but he continued to move his tongue in the most unique and confident way, like, like, in a snake pattern, pressing down the hardest on her clit, rubbing relentlessly, and her spine quite literally bowed without her permission, stars frolicking in front of her eyes. “Burgess, please! Please, please, please.”

Instead of stopping, instead of weighing her down into the mattress with his heavy body, as she was craving, he gently filled her with two fingers and dragged his puckered lips side to side over her nub, humming as he went. And then he looked at her, his upper lip tugging slightly in a snarl, and added a third finger, pushing it deep until she cried out. Spat on her again. Pumped his fingers once, twice, twisting them, while bathing her with the flat of his tongue, over and over and over until she was ripping at the strands of his hair, pressing her hips up and begging, out loud. Begging for the end of her own life, because she couldn’t take the incredible pressure anymore. Couldn’t withstand it without breaking.

And that’s when she shattered.

Screaming.

His lips ground down against her clit, pushing down and holding tight while she came, like how, how did he know exactly what to do? How was this real? Her sex clenched and quivered and pulsed in excruciatingly perfect waves of gold, sweat rolling down the slopes of her temples, toes digging into the mattress, bliss radiating outward, inward, everywhere.

She was still lost in the glory of it all when Burgess came up over her, wedged his hips between her trembling thighs and brought his fisted shaft to her entrance, his expression one of palpable starvation. “Still saying yes to this dick, Tallulah?”

“ Yes ,” she managed, still unable to pry her molars apart.

Burgess’s muscles locked up and he pumped home, deep, his balls smacking off her bottom, a fractured yell coming from his mouth, the headboard slamming off the wall. “Oh God. Oh God, yes. Fuck yes.” He suctioned their mouths together, kissing her once roughly, before giving her a series of soft, gentle ones. “Look at me. Tell me you’ve never been filled up as full as I’m doing it right now. I need to know.”

How could he even wonder? Her nails were sinking into the fleshy curve of his buttocks, urging him to scramble her like eggs. “Never,” she moaned, lifting her hips. “I’m so full.”

Still, his gaze took a few laps around her face, even as sweat started to form on his upper lip from the effort of holding still. Until... “Yeah, I can see you like it.” Relief flickered in his expression a second before he licked into her mouth, flexing his hips a couple of times, before beginning to rock, pulling himself out slightly and pressing back in. “Been wanting inside of you so long, I can’t believe I’m there. Can’t believe you’re so fucking perfect. Goddamn.”

“You’ve been inside my mouth before,” she purred against his lips.

He groaned through a slow thrust. “Don’t remind me of how well you suck my dick when I’m trying not to come in eight seconds.”

Tallulah could actually feel herself grow more slippery where their bodies joined. Could feel every minute expansion of her lungs, his lungs, could pinpoint every atom in the air, her senses were so heightened from being connected to this man. “I suck your dick so well,” she whispered in his ear, against his wishes, tightening her flesh around him cruelly, wanting him to join her on the cloud of pleasure where she’d been dropped, thanks to his tongue, floating and luxuriating in the scent of his sweat, the firm shape of him inside of her. “I suck it so hard because I love it.”

In response, Burgess’s breath shuddered out, eyes clenching shut momentarily. “Jesus, that’s a hot squeeze.” He reared back and slammed home. One, two, three, four, five times, his mouth open with enjoyment. “Fuck!” He slowed down, panting, visibly trying to rein back the need for relief. “The day we met, you could have asked me to bring you the moon on a platter and I’d have done it,” he said raggedly. “Ask me for galaxies now. You get anything you want, gorgeous. Just let me be the one to spread these legs.”

“I’ll spread them so wide for you,” she whined against his mouth, her body eagerly absorbing the blows that followed, the punch of his powerful hips, the rough ride of his erection over the sensitivity of her clit, rubbing and teasing her a little, before taking some hard thrusts all for himself, his tongue busy on her neck, in her mouth, his eyes feverish while watching her breasts jiggle while he took her. “Nobody’s cock but yours.”

The bed started to creak faster. “Say that again.”

“Only yours.”

His groan was almost earsplitting. “Good girl. Good fucking girl.”

He enjoyed her body for everything it was worth and watching it happen, feeling it happen, was like an aphrodisiac. He pummeled her a while and pulled back, repositioning her legs to experience a different angle, before falling on top of her and straight fucking like an animal—and she grew painfully turned on in the unrehearsed, frantic face of it all, her nipples spiking once again, that ripple and flex reigniting between her legs. Oh. Oh. Oh my goodness. And it was like he sensed it, sensed the moment Tallulah’s second orgasm started to build, because his gaze turned sharper on her face, watching, a muscle popping in his cheek.

“Yeah. That’s right.” He trapped her jaw in his hand. “You grateful for your big motherfucker yet, gorgeous?”

“ Yes ,” Tallulah gasped, mentally and verbally, his confidence in her body, the way he knew just the right amount of force to use, made her feel safe and free and prized, so much so that she bit her lip and let loose, her hips smacking up against his thrusts, rigid flesh entering wet, their mouths loudly exchanging breaths while they worked themselves into a frenzy in search of that peak, that sharp, perfect, mutual peak so they could jump off together.

“Put your legs over my shoulders and let me finish rough.”

How did he make an order sound like a request for permission? She didn’t know, but his manner was so uniquely Burgess and she... was grateful. Grateful in so many more ways than one, because she could feel his gratitude in the air between them, in the blaze of his eyes and worship of his big body. And God , he was...

“So big,” she moaned, accepting his first drive after propping her calves on his shoulders, watching his features become engulfed by lust, white teeth clenched together while his hips kicked into a purposeful gallop, his angle giving her the contact she needed on top of her clit to twist the comforter in her hands and search for an exit from the breathtaking quickening, the telltale pulsing of her muscles. And that total blackout of reservations, combined with the drugging effect of Burgess, made her mouth form words that didn’t require approval from her brain. “That’s so good, it’s so good. Hurt me.”

“Never.”

“Make it hurt,” she screamed.

He hesitated. And broke. “Fuck!”

That’s when she realized he’d only been using half his strength on her—and the second half was raw and brutal and delicious. She heard the headboard crack, the groans of the bedsprings running together into one long, continuous protest, a shout stirring in his chest as he gave in to his nature and took her crudely, her body bent in half, his lips peeled back in a snarl, sweat coating his expansive chest, muscles straining.

The sight of him blew her right out of the comfort zone she didn’t even realize she’d been living in, turned her almost feral as she slashed her nails down his muscular back and orgasmed beneath his punishing body, nothing but a shaking, satisfied mess, wet heat rolling down the cheeks of her backside.

And all she wanted was to be his relief. To see him break. To be the reason for it.

With that desire blocking out every other thought in Tallulah’s head, she constricted her sex around his, drawing on all those delicate muscles and bit down on his ear. “ Mean Daddy ,” she whispered, and he spent inside of her, almost like she’d sucked it clean out with two single words, his Goliath form shaking her body and the entire bed with it, deafening groans releasing against her ear, and she only pressed closer, hoping the deep, growling sound of his pleasure would be the final thing she ever heard.

“Mean, so mean, so mean,” she pouted, writhing on his stiffness to rid him of those final ounces and he flattened her, pumping several more times, before collapsing, the mess they made together dripping down her inner thighs and butt—and she couldn’t have cared less. Didn’t even rustle up enough wherewithal when her head was drowsy, body sated beyond belief, and she had this warrior as her own personal blanket. “Wow,” she breathed, head spinning, the ceiling above resembling white puffy clouds.

“My God,” Burgess said hoarsely into her neck. “My God, Tallulah.”

“Yeah.”

The muscles in his shoulders bunched. “I didn’t hurt you, right? Please, I’ll—”

“I am the opposite of hurt. It was . . . I can’t . . .”

He lifted his head and hit her with so much affection, rubbing their lips together softly, slowly, that she lost the ability to breathe. “You can’t what?”

Live . . . without you.

“I can’t believe I . . . twice.”

His mouth twisted to subdue a smile and he glanced quickly to the side. “Oh yeah?”

Mirth danced up into her throat. “Are you being smug?”

He shrugged a shoulder, pitched onto his side and drew her into a giant, warm bear hug. “Maybe I’m a little relieved I still know what I’m doing.” He dropped a hard kiss on her forehead. Then another. “Twice, huh?” A grunt. “Hell yeah.”

“No fair. I can only make you come once.”

Burgess scoffed, running his hands down her back, giving her butt a nice squeeze. “Believe me, gorgeous, I could make you come a hundred times and getting to experience you once would still make it fucking fair.”

“That’s so romantic,” she whispered, but it dissolved into an intimate laugh against his mouth, his big hand traveling up her back to stroke her hair.

“Tallulah.”

“Yes?” she whispered, rolling their foreheads together.

“It’s not a home without you.” He pulled her close. “Not anymore. Come back.”